


take and take care

by noctiphany



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Daddy Kink, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctiphany/pseuds/noctiphany
Summary: Damian's plan backfired.
Relationships: slade wilson/damian wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 247





	take and take care

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I know I literally all I write is daddy fic anymore BUT THIS WAS A REQUEST PROMPT SO IT'S NOT MY FAULT. 
> 
> For Jean <3
> 
> Also this is messy and not beta'd, sorry i have poor impulse control (:

Damian realizes, after he’s back in Gotham and back in his own home, with his own father, how much of a mistake it had been to follow Wilson around and call _him_ father, despite the fact that he was only trying to mess with his head. He realizes that his plan backfired the first night he’s back, his hand wrapped around his dick, thinking about Slade’s hands, Slade’s voice, the way his body had felt against Damian’s when he’d shielded him from a bullet, the way Slade had _protected_ him instead of allowing him to patrol the streets of Gotham at night alone, barely showing an ounce of concern about his well being. 

He came thinking about that night in the motel, Slade's voice seeming softer than usual in the dark, telling him it was okay to be a kid sometimes. Then, Damian vowed to never do it again.

And he didn’t. He did not touch himself again at night thinking about Slade Wilson or all the ways he could’ve been a different, if not better father than his own. Instead, he tracked Slade down and followed him, sticking to the shadows as he watches him work, until Slade made him. 

Then they fought, because that’s what they do. It’s just instinct. The way some people shake hands, people like Slade and Damian say hello by drawing blood. They fight until they’re out of breath and it’s clear they’re not getting anywhere, and then Slade catches him unaware.

“Did good, kid,” he says, then reaches out and Damian flinches, expecting another swing, but all Slade does is reach out and adjust his cape. “Good to see daddy's’ archaic rules and completely useless morality hasn’t impacted your skill.”

Damian reached out and catches Slade's wrist before Slade can pull away, though he can’t say why. Slade's eyes catch his own, then Slade’s backing him up against a wall, pressing his body against him, and Damian can’t move, he can’t breathe, he just wants -

“Please,” he says, so quiet he’s not even sure if he says it aloud, or only in his head, but Slade just nods and says, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

Not fifteen minutes later they’re in a loft apartment in downtown Gotham and Damian is grabbing at Slade, reaching for something he never knew he needed until now. Slade says _shhh_ and _hey kid, slow down,_ and _I’m right here, not going anywhere,_ but it only feels like pouring gasoline on the fire burning inside of him. 

“Slade,” he pleads, hating how desperate he sounds, but too far gone to care, and thankfully the man takes pity on him. He strips Damian of his clothing, then his own, and then Slade’s body is pressing him into the bed, hard and hot and heavy on top of him. Muscle and skin and Slade’s mouth, hot and wet against his own, his cock a solid, hard weight against the inside of Damian’s thigh, and Damian has a sudden, jarring realization that he wants it inside of him. He’s never had anyone before, but suddenly the hollow emptiness inside of him feels like it’s going to devour him. He needs it, needs to be filled up, to be fucked. He needs Slade to take him and take care of him and --

“Daddy,” Damian whispers, face buried in Slade’s shoulder, and Slade just pulls back and looks down him, eyes wide, but not with disgust. With something soft, almost like fondness, Damian thinks, but more than that too. 

“Yeah,” Slade says and it’s so deep Damian can feel the words rumble through his chest. “Daddy’s got you, boy.” 

It takes too long to get to the part that Damian wants, he’s never been known for his patience, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. Slade’s fingers are thick and skilled as the rest of him, like he knows exactly how to twist and thrust them, knows exactly which spots inside of Damian make his vision black out. 

“I want,” Damian hears himself mumbling. “I want --”

“I know,” Slade says, buried three fingers deep inside of him. “You’re doing so good. Just a little more for me, baby.” 

Damian flushes all the way down his chest, warmth surging and spreading throughout him, then Slade’s fingertips brush a certain spot inside of him and Damian bites into his arm as his body goes taut, the fire inside of him roaring to life as his vision completely whites out and he comes on nothing but Slade’s fingers. 

“Christ,” Slade murmurs, milking him through it, then slowly slides his fingers out of Damian and wipes them on the bed. Damian whines when Slade pulls him into his lap and then down on his cock, but this is what he wanted. He feels stretched beyond belief, so full that it’s overwhelming, like he can’t breathe. But Slade has him. He’s whispering encouragements next to Damian’s as he starts to fuck into him and it’s good, it’s so good. Slade’s mouth is on his throat, teeth and tongue, sucking bruises into the skin, little reminders of him that Damian will see tomorrow and remember this, how he let Slade have him like this, how he’d _wanted_ it. They both did. 

Slade doesn’t say much while he fucks him. Damian doesn’t know if he expected him to talk dirty or what, but this seems right. It’s intense, the way Slade is with everything, the only sound in the room the sounds of their heavy breathing, and the embarrassing noises Damian makes everytime Slade hits that oversensitive part inside of him. Before Damian knows it, he’s hard again. Every time Slade hits him deep, he moans and clutches at him, digs his fingers into the meat of Slade’s shoulders as he feel that warmth building inside of him again, coiling tight in his belly. 

“Roll over for me,” Slade murmurs, and Damian whines pathetically as he pulls out, but then he’s rolling Damian flat onto his stomach and all Damian can do is lay his head on the mattress, close his eyes and dig his teeth into his bottom lip as Slade moves to straddle his legs, then pushes back into him. 

The noise Damian lets out when Slade slides into him this time is loud and filthy, so much that he can’t believe it’s his own. But then Slade is fucking him harder, faster, and those noises just keep pouring out of him. He’s rutting against the bed as Slade drives into him again and again, hands bracketing Damian’s hips, squeezing his ass. It feels so good, Damian feels incredibly full this way, even more than before, and Slade’s ramming into that spot inside of him with each thrust now, forcing high pitched whines and whimpers out of Damian’s throat, until Damian feels that familiar fire, coiled tight and hot in his gut, and he knows he’s going to come again. He wants to, everything feels so good, but he's already come once; he feels greedy. He wants to know if he can, if he deserves it. 

“I --” he tries, interrupted by a moan as Slade snaps his hips, fucking him so hard he can hardly catch his breath. “Please, can I…”

“Hm?” Slade asks, leaning down and draping himself over Damian’s body, shoving his cock somehow even deeper inside of him. “I know you’ve got all those fancy words. So, I’m gonna need you to use them for me, kiddo.” 

Damian shouts a moan into the mattress, so loud it’s barely muffled. Slade has slipped his thumb into him too and Damian’s cock _throbs._

“I want, I --” Damian gasps. Slade’s body is a heavy weight against his own, preventing him from moving at all, really, just slamming into Damian over and over. “Please, can I - may I please come, Daddy?”

“Oh fuck,” Slade groans, sitting back up so he can get a good grip on Damian’s hips again and he starts slamming into him, picking up a fast, brutal rhythm that makes Damian’s vision blur out. “Like this, baby? You already came on my fingers, you gonna come on my cock now?”

“ _P_ _lease, Daddy_ ,” Damian whines, completely unaware of what’s coming out of his mouth at this point, out of his mind with pleasure and desperation for Slade to just push him over the edge he’s teetering on. 

“Christ, look at you,” Slade says, hands kneading into Damian’s ass, spreading him open so he can watch his cock slip and slide out of Damian’s hole. "You take me so good. Such a good boy for me.”

“ _O_ _h_ ,” Damian gasps, then it slams into him and he cries out, the pleasure so intense it brings tears to his eyes as the wave crash into him, and it ripples through his body. 

“Shit,” Slade gasps, his movements getting faster, but more erratic, no rhythm, just desperately fucking into the tight clench of Damian’s body and Damian can hear himself, can’t believe how _loud_ he’s being, but his body is just so oversensitive, he can't take anymore. 

" _Daddy,_ ” he whimpers, because he saw it in Slade’s eyes before, he knows what it does to him. He likes that it gives him power over Slade too, that he’s not the only one affected by it, who _needs_ it. And just like that, Damian feels Slade’s hips stutter and his fingers tighten like vices around his hips. Slade’s cock pulses inside of him and he growls out something unintelligible between Damian's shoulder blades as he comes. 

When the afterglow is gone, Damian feels like a drunk person who’s sobering up, who can remember the things that they said and did, but can’t quite believe it. Panic starts to bubble inside of him and he grasps for the only way he knows how to cope in these situations. He wants to fight, to lash out, to sabotage things before they go even farther. Instead he just says, “Why?”

Slade arches an eyebrow at him as he tosses him a wet cloth to wipe himself down with. 

“Why  _ you _ ,” Damian clarifies. He realizes it’s a rhetorical question, but the panic in him won’t subside. He can’t stop thinking about what he just did. The things he just  _ said.  _ And more importantly, the way Slade - Deathstroke - had made him feel.  _ Safe.  _

Slade just chuckles. “Because, kiddo,” he says. “Broken knows what to do with broken.”

Damian feels like he should probably be offended, knows that anyone else would be, but there’s something about it that’s comforting. Slade doesn’t dance around subjects or ignore the elephant in the room, he just puts it out there. Accepts it as how it is, no judgement. 

“Thank you,” Damian says, because he’s unsure what he’s supposed to say in a situation like this, and because he is. He doesn’t fully understand it yet, but he is. When he looks up, Slade is giving him an odd look. 

“Go home, kid,” he says and before Damian can climb out the window, he adds, “You know where to find me.” 

  
  



End file.
